That was my alias which was one of many

As for many years I was a spy

Who was so far underground

That I rarely surfaced for air

I lived in hostile cities

Watching and listening

Arranging collections and drops

In all I was an ant who although

In the plain sight remained invisible

As people could not see me clearly

 

But that was many years ago

And now I own a number of daffodil farms

Which bring me a comfortable living

I have named my fields after artists

Caravaggio Vermeer and Ingres

They bring me a happiness

That I have rarely experienced

Daffodils are such settled flowers

 

In my safe there a slim wooden box

Which is about six inches in length

And is full of diamonds

These are my currency

Next to this box of wonders

Is a loaded revolver

Which I have used before

And am prepared to use again

Should the need arise

 

I stole these diamonds

From a oil millionaire

As he had no further use for them

Because he was dead

Next to his assassin

Who I had shot in self defence

With the very revolver

That lies hidden in my safe

 

There are new gangsters today

But I do not really care

As I have done my bit

For my country and so much more

Although it has never personally thanked me

 

As far as I know I never existed

People chased shadows in the hope

Of finding me but it was a useless task

As to be found was to exist

That was why I was so successful

 

Both of my operators are now long dead

No files exist that would incriminate me

I am the spy who never was now lost forever

In time I will reveal my bloody hand

As such secrecy is bad for the soul

 

Until then 

 

 

A Salon